


while I wait (for you to heal)

by Quillium



Series: bluepulse week 2k19 [4]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Tumblr: Bluepulse Week 2019, and platonic since Bart's still around 13 at this point, okay I say that but it's pretty Jaime centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: The sword rips through Bart’s stomach. When it’s pulled out, Jaime can see the flash of white bone before the blood comes gushing out, spillingred, red, red.





	while I wait (for you to heal)

The sword rips through Bart’s stomach. When it’s pulled out, Jaime can see the flash of white bone before the blood comes gushing out, spilling _red, red, red_.

The swordsman is taken down by Nightwing a second later and Jaime should feel relieved but all he can feel is panic building up in his throat and the terrified question of _was it a second too late_.

He’s down before he knows it, armour curling back once Scarab realizes there’s no other threats, just the team, Jaime’s fingers curling behind Bart’s head as support.

Nightwing casts them a glance before he purses his lips together and jerks his chin, “Get him to the bio-ship. Can you carry him?”

Jaime only waits a second for Scarab’s answer before echoing his “yes” out loud.

_Do not worry_ , Scarab huffs _, after examining all previous data, I have concluded that the Impulse has not sustained a fatal injury._

“Thanks, Scarab,” Jaime whispers.

_It is not a problem_ , but there is something like pride in Scarab’s voice all the same.

Jaime tries to stay on the bright side. Bart’ll be alright and Scarab is softening.

But his hands are warm and wet with Bart’s blood and worry is overriding all that.

“He’ll be alright,” Nightwing says quietly when they get Bart to a bed in the infirmary.

“I know,” Jaime wipes his hands on his jeans. They leave behind streaks of red, “Thanks, _ese_. For trying to, you know, comfort me.”

Nightwing wraps an arm around Jaime’s shoulders for a brief, blink-and-you-miss-it moment, and then the next breath Jaime takes, Nightwing’s hands are by his side again. “You can stay the night, if you want. We’ll make all the arrangements, handle everything. Bring you a book or something. Or if you’d prefer something to distract you, we can do that, too.”

“Maybe—“ Jaime looks at his hands. Bart’s blood is on his arms, dried and peeling off a bit in some areas.“Maybe I can take a shower or something, first?”

“Of course,” Nightwing offers a quick smile before it’s smoothed out, “Do you mind if I wait here a bit, by Bart’s side?”

“Of course not,” Jaime answers, startled, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Nightwing tilts his head to the side, “he’s part of my team, after all.”

“Right,” Jaime slips out the door just as M’gann slides in. As he’s shutting the door behind him, he hears her sigh _I hope you aren’t blaming yourself_ and Nightwing’s weary _I’m not beating myself up, just thought I’d be here if he wakes up_.

_The Nightwing is not terrible_ , Scarab notes.

“Does that mean you like him, _hermano_?” Jaime asks as he moves into the shower. The water, cold as ice against his skin, feels jarring and comforting.

_I do not have feelings_.

“I think you do,” Jaime scrubs off the blood. Some of it got on his chest, probably seeping through the shirt. He’ll have to change clothes after the shower, “You just don’t want to admit it, but you’re a sap.”

_This is slander, Jaime Reyes. Your human ‘love’ only has a minor affect on me_.

“But it does have an affect on you?”

_I do—care—for you and those close to you. Which includes the Impulse. I—as you say it, ‘like’—the Nightwing because he is kind to the Impulse. Nothing more_.

Jaime laughs a bit, “So you like Nightwing because he’s a nice guy and he’s nice to Bart? Aw, you’re attached to Bart, too.”

He gets the distinct feeling that Scarab is embarrassed.

Jaime teases Scarab a bit more before finishing his shower. When he’s done, there’s a neatly folded pile of clothes ready for him. When he asks, Scarab informs him that it was Gar who left it there.

“The team’s pretty crash, huh.”

_I suppose_ , Scarab says, which is as close to an enthused agreement as Jaime will get.

Jaime laughs a bit before moving back into the infirmary. Nightwing is still there, reading a textbook on string theory out loud to Bart.

“How about you take a break, fearless leader?” Bart grins at Jaime, “We’ve been at this for a while and Jaime can keep me company. You should rest up.”

“If you’re sure,” Nightwing says, already packing up. He ruffles Bart’s hair, takes a moment, and then ruffles Jaime’s as well. There’s a pleased smile on his lips as he says, “No armour?”

“It likes you,” Jaime answers absentmindedly as he takes the seat by Bart, “Hey, _hermano_ , good to see you up.”

“Of course I’m up,” Bart says, offering the faint wisp of a smile, “I heal fast.”

“Not that fast,” Nightwing warns, already across the room, “Take care, don’t do anything strenuous.”

“Yes, mom,” Bart teases as Nightwing shuts the door behind him. He laughs a bit before turning to Jaime, “How’re you doing, hermano?”

“Wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Alright.”

“Looked like it hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

“But it did hurt?”

Bart tilts his head to the side before repeating, “I’ll heal.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Does it matter if it hurt?”

“It does to me.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Then don’t make it one,” Jaime pats Bart’s hand, “There’s no shame in admitting you’re hurt or want comfort.”

Bart beckons Jaime forward, so Jaime moves the chair so close that it touches the bed. Bart leans forward and rests his head on Jaime’s shoulder.

“It hurts,” he says quietly, “And I can’t get drugged because my metabolism’s too fast.”

“That sounds terrible, _ese_.”

“It isn’t so bad.”

“It’s alright if it is.”

A quiet laugh, “It’s a little bad.”

“Alright. What do you want me to do?”

“Just stay like this,” Bart says. It’s easy to forget that Bart’s younger, sometimes, but it feels painfully obvious at times like these.

“Alright,” Jaime wraps his arms around Bart, smoothing one hand on the back of Bart’s head, “You scared me.”

“Scared me, too. Thought I was dead for a second there. I felt the sword slide against my ribcage—scary stuff.”

“Sounds like it.”

Bart hugs him back, arms over Jaime’s shoulders, like he’s resting all his weight on Jaime. “Yeah. I’d rather that not happen again.”

“Me neither.”

Another laugh, a bit louder, “Story?”

“You always want stories.”

“Your stories are good.”

“These are the same stories I tell Milagro.”

“Then she has excellent taste.”

“Alright,” the two readjust so that Jaime sits on the edge of the bed and Bart leans against his side, Jaime’s arm over his shoulders to hold steady, “So once upon a time, there’s this prince. He wants glory and power, so he decides to slay the dragon next door—“


End file.
